Addicted to Him
by InfinityStar
Summary: In his worst nightmares, he never imagined she could do this to him...and without Eames, his world is falling apart.
1. Gone Missing

He sat in silence at his desk, staring at the letter in the evidence bag in front of him. It was long past the hour when he would have normally gone home. There was little activity about him. None of the support personnel were in at this hour, and few detectives remained. The squad was quiet, lighting subdued, and yet, he remained. He studied the writing, the paper the note was written on…all of it was committed to his memory, and it would haunt him, he was certain, until the day he died.

_Hello, Bobby. They call her your bulldog…how funny. She protects you fiercely. I have seen that. And she's always there…to keep you from falling into the abyss. The one thing I found that was good in me, you took away. I am back now, to take away that which is good in your life. You wanted to know why I always come back to you. I am addicted to you, Bobby…to our game. Now I am playing for keeps. You can find her. You have that in you. But can you get past all that emotion that bogs you down and find her in time? We shall see…_

He got up and paced the area behind his desk, restless, agitated. 'You can find her. You have that in you.' He had to find her. In his worst nightmares, he had never seen this. Maybe he was in denial. Not even Nicole Wallace could strike that deep, hit him that hard. But she had…and he had never seen it coming.

He heard the movement behind him, but he ignored it. The voice surprised him. "It's late."

He nodded, not turning. "I know."

"Camping out here? You think she's going to waltz in here and hand you the clues you need?"

He turned to face Mike Logan, angry, though not at his fellow detective. He felt…helpless…and that made him furious, at himself, at Nicole, even at Eames… Logan saw the anger, the rage…but he remained where he was, leaning against Eames' desk.

Goren didn't know what to do. His restless energy was pent up, making him ready to explode. Logan saw that, too. Still, he remained silent as Goren struggled with himself. The big detective dropped into his chair, burying his head in his hands. Logan had never seen him like this. He knew what they said about Eames. He had seen for himself how she grounded her partner, kept him from going over the edge when things got bad. He imagined that things would never get worse for the big cop than they were right now. He needed focus, and he wasn't able to get it. "What are you going to do, Goren?"

Goren finally sat back. "I'm going to do my goddam job, that's what."

"Where are you going to start? Here at your desk? You aren't gonna find a whole helluva lot here, are you? She left you that note, even though no one knows how she did it. I don't expect she'll waltz her pretty little ass in here again, knowing that you know she's back."

Goren looked at the note again. Logan shook his head. "That's not gonna tell you any more than it already has."

The harried detective got to his feet suddenly, grabbing Logan by the front of his shirt. "What?" Logan yelled at him. "You think punching my lights out will tell you anything?"

Goren settled, releasing Logan with a mumbled apology. "Forget it," Logan replied. "Don't you think we should go over to Eames' place?"

"For what? She's not there."

"Are you turning idiot on me, Goren? That's where she was snatched, right? Last I checked there was no such thing as a perfect crime, especially when you're on it. CSU will be done with their shit by now. You can get into her place, can't you?" Goren nodded. "So, why are we sitting here?"

Goren stared at Logan. "What are you doing?" he wanted to know.

Logan looked at the empty chair in front of the desk adjoining Goren's. "I like Eames. I remember the last case with Wallace, when I was first assigned here. I saw a little bit of what she did to you, and I talked a little with Eames about it. She seemed convinced Wallace would be back, that there's something in her that just can't let you be. Now this…" He nodded at the letter. "This seems a little extreme, but I'm guessing there's not much that psychobitch won't do. You can't do this alone, Goren. So I'm going to help you."

"You have your own cases, Logan."

"Barek and I are fine. We just wrapped up our last case, and I have some free time. So, let's go on over to Eames' place and see what Nicole left for you to find."


	2. Her Apartment

Goren pulled his keys from his pocket, finding the key to her door. He tore the crime scene tape from its place across the doorway and slid the key into its lock.

"You have a key to her apartment," Logan remarked, not especially surprised.

"And she has one to mine."

"That could prove embarrassing."

"Shut the hell up, Logan." Logan liked to mess with him, but he wasn't in the mood for it. He opened the door and stopped. He would never classify Eames' apartment as meticulous, but…

There was black fingerprint powder everywhere, and prints or smudges on every surface. On the coffee table, a candle has burned itself out, spilling wax onto the tabletop. A table had been upended from its place near the recliner across the room, scattering magazines across the floor. He squatted beside a picture of her nephew, its frame broken and its glass shattered. That's exactly how he felt. Shattered.

Logan watched him wander around the room, slipping his hands automatically into latex gloves. He would not even try to hazard a guess as to what was going through that mind of his. Eames could read the man like a book, and she was in tune with his thinking. Logan didn't know him that well, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. He pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and slipped them on.

Goren went down the hall to the bedroom. Logan noticed there was no hesitation, no indication of unfamiliarity, and he wondered about that, but only for a moment, until Goren opened the door. The bedroom was in shambles. He noticed how Goren stiffened when he walked into the room, like he knew this was not its normal state. Now he himself couldn't even guess at how his partner kept her bedroom, though he'd been to her place a number of times. The bedroom was the inner sanctum of a person's home, a private place few were privileged to enter. And again he wondered about just how much privilege Goren had been entitled to in Eames' life, and vice versa.

Logan stood in the doorway as Goren wandered about the room. More smashed frames littered the floor amid broken glass. Her desk had been cleared, paper and pens, books, paper clips…all were scattered about the floor. Finally he stopped by the bed. The top sheet and blanket were thrown to the side…he leaned closer, reaching out to touch something…

Finally he looked at Logan. "Blood," he said, an odd timbre to his voice.

His eyes continued to wander about the room, catching a mark on the wall near the ceiling. He pointed. Logan came into the room, following his finger. "Bullet," Goren said softly.

Turning to the bedside table, he slid the drawer open. "Her gun is gone."

Logan just watched him, wondering again about how much Goren knew about his partner and how little he knew about his in comparison. Granted, Goren and Eames had been partners for a long time, but still…there was a level of familiarity between them he had always noticed and never understood. Goren stood there for a minute, looking thoughtful, then he dropped to a knee and looked under the bed. Pulling a penlight from his pocket, he shined its light under the bed. "There it is."

Logan bent over and looked under the bed. Sure enough, there was Eames' gun, resting against the wall far under the bed. "Watch out," Goren warned.

He slid the bed away from the wall and picked up the gun by its trigger guard. He studied it, holding it closer to his face so he could smell the barrel. "It's been fired," he said uneasily. He dropped it into an evidence bag, slipping it into his pocket. He moved the bed back to its original place.

The chair that belonged at her desk was on its back in the middle of the room. Goren set it upright against the wall as he pulled his switchblade from his pocket. He pried the bullet from its resting place into his hand, dropped it into an evidence bag and put it in his pocket. "Looks like it's from her gun."

He closed the knife and stepped off the chair. "Unless Wallace has a similar gun," Logan pointed out.

He considered that. "I've never known her to carry one."

"That doesn't mean she hasn't started."

Goren shrugged. "I guess."

He walked to the bed, opening his knife again. "She's going to kill me for this," he muttered. He deftly cut the blood spot, about the size of a dinner plate, from the sheet and put it into an evidence bag.

Logan followed him back to the living room and watched as he crossed the breakfast nook into the kitchen. He came right back out. "No one was in there but CSU."

"So, other than CSU doing a crappy job, what went down?"

Goren pulled out a chair from the small dining table in the nook and sat down. He ran a hand over his face and looked at Logan. He shook his head. "CSU would never have missed what we found. She's been back here."

"Ok, that just creeps me out. How'd she get in?"

"She must have Eames' keys."

Logan frowned. "And that means she has the keys to your place, too."

Goren swore, bolting out of the chair so fast it went flying into the wall. Logan was right behind him.


	3. His Apartment

His hands were shaking too much for him to get the key into the lock, so Logan took the keys from him. He opened the door. Goren ran in and stopped so suddenly Logan ran into his back. He didn't even notice.

Logan stepped away from him and looked around the living room. It was exactly what he expected. The place was spotless. But Goren was trembling. "What's wrong?"

"She's been here," he answered tightly.

"How can you tell?" Goren glared at him. "What?" he asked.

It took Goren time to realize that not only had Logan never been to his place before, but he wasn't Eames; Logan didn't know him. "Call CSU, Logan." He'd already pulled on his latex gloves.

Logan made the call, then pulled on his own latex gloves and followed Goren around the apartment. He didn't understand why Goren was getting more and more agitated. "Talk to me, Goren. What the hell is wrong?"

Goren leaned over, hands on his knees, and took a few deep breaths. He was calmer when he stood up, but his hands were still shaking. "Nothing major is out of place. Just small things, enough to let me know she's been here. The tilted lampshade, the magazines on the coffee table…"

Logan looked at the lamp. The shade wasn't obviously out of order, but it was set askew. And the magazines were spread out on the coffee table…four magazines…and he guessed that was not normally how Goren kept them.

Goren continued to walk around the room before he headed to his bedroom, Logan right behind him. He opened the door and stepped into the room. The window was open and the cool night breeze fluttered the drapes. The bed was in disarray, and Goren walked over to it, moving the sheet and blanket aside. More blood…a lot more blood.

Logan frowned. "I assume it wasn't like that when you left this morning."

The look on Goren's face spoke volumes. He moved past Logan and returned to the living room. Logan leaned against the wall where the hallway came into the living room and watched Goren. The big detective sat on the arm of the couch and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked at the floor, lost. Logan quietly said, "When we're done here, come stay at my place." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "Don't worry, Goren. We'll find your partner."

Goren nodded in agreement. "We'll find her," he said. "And we'll find Nicole."

Logan didn't like the way he sounded. He agreed with what he said, but the way he'd said it sent a chill down his spine, and he didn't like that at all.


	4. Contact

The squad room was bustling. When a cop goes missing, it's taken very seriously. But they were spinning their wheels. Nothing that was found at either apartment told them where Nicole had taken Eames. Logan watched Goren's restlessness increase as the day wore on. He noticed that Deakins was keeping an eye on him, too.

When Logan got up that morning, he found Goren pacing the living room. He was fairly certain the big cop had not slept at all. On the ride in to the squad, he hadn't said a word. And he'd hardly sat at his desk all day, roaming impatiently about the squad room, lost in thought. Logan watched the others avoid him, casting wary glances at the big, restless detective. Even Barek wasn't sure what to make of him.

One of the support staff came over to Logan and handed him several papers. He looked through them without reading them…even the support staff, who were used to dealing with Goren, were avoiding him. Logan got up with a sigh. "Goren," he called.

Goren looked at him. He held up the papers. "Crime scene report."

He handed them to Goren when he came over to him, and he watched as he read through the findings. "It wasn't her blood," he said. "It was animal blood."

Logan shook his head. "Nothing's safe around her. They know what kind of animal?"

"Bird."

"What? She killed a bird to get its blood?"

"More than one apparently."

"So she broke into your apartment to decorate your bed with pigeon blood?"

Goren was pacing again. "She's not in the city."

"How do you know?"

He looked at Logan, surprised. Again, Logan wasn't Eames, who had become used to his gut feelings and leaps of logic. "I just know," he answered.

"So where is she then?"

"Would I be standing here if I knew that?" He turned to the next page of the report. "It was Eames' gun, and the bullet matched."

"So she shot at Wallace?"

He shook his head. "No. If Eames had grabbed her gun, and there was a struggle, the drawer she kept it in wouldn't have been neatly closed. And CSU would have found that bullet and the gun. That was all staged."

"What for?"

"So I would know she'd come back. She's taunting me."

"Goren," shouted a detective from across the room. "Line one."

He grabbed Logan's phone and hit line one. "Goren."

"Hello, Bobby."

He pointed at the tech who'd set up tracking equipment on the squad's phones that morning. Logan picked up Barek's phone and listened in. "Where the hell are you?"

"Closer than you think."

"Where's Eames?"

"She's all right at the moment. I haven't decided what to do with her yet."

"How do I know she's ok?"

"I won't lie to you. If she comes to any harm, I'll tell you. You never came back to your apartment last night."

"How do you know that?"

She laughed, and Logan shuddered at the sound of it. "You'd be surprised by what I know. Maybe you should stop by. Good-bye, Bobby."

Goren turned to look at the tech. "Got it…she's in the building…on the line outside the evidence room."

Goren and Logan ran for the stairwell. They exploded from the stairwell, knocking into three officers on their way to the evidence room. The phone hung free. Goren looked around, sticking his head into the evidence room, where two other cops were admitting a box full of stuff into evidence. "Did anyone see someone using this phone?"

"Yeah," one of the officers answered. "Blond woman."

"Did you see where she went?"

"Sorry."

Logan followed him as he headed for the lobby and out of the building. He watched as Goren looked up the street one way and down the other. He then put a hand on his hand, angry and frustrated. "Damn it!"

She had been there, and now she was gone, fading into thin air like a wisp of smoke in the wind.


	5. Setup

Night...day... It didn't matter. She couldn't tell. The pounding in her head muted the sound of the pounding surf. She could smell the water, taste its saltiness and she wondered how close she was to the ocean's sandy shores. She remembered how much she loved the ocean as a child…chasing seagulls and waves, digging for crabs, finding shells that had not been battered and worn by the eternally churning surf.

She was tied to a chair and her back hurt, not to mention the fact that she was angry. She heard someone come into the room, and she braced herself. The blindfold was jerked from her head and she squinted at the light that streamed into the room through the boards that were nailed to the window. "Hello, detective."

"Nicole Wallace."

"I'm flattered that you remember me."

"How could I forget you? What are you up to, Nicole?"

"Oh, I'm not going to hurt you."

"If you're not going to hurt me, why am I here?"

Wallace smiled, a cold, calculating smile that made a lump form in the pit of her stomach. She moved closer, brushing Eames' hair back from her face. She pulled her head away. Wallace leaned close to her, her lips near her ear. She whispered, "Do you ever wonder...? Or do you already know?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Wallace laughed, her laughter as cold and calculating as her smile. "I didn't bring you here to harm a hair on your pretty little head. I brought you here as bait. To catch the fish I'm after you are the only sure bait I could get. After all, what is he without you? His mother's son?"

She laughed again as she left the room. And all that was left was the sound of the crashing surf and a knot of dread in the pit of his partner's stomach.

------------------------------------------------------

Goren opened the door to his apartment, and he and Logan went inside. Nothing had changed in the living room. Both men looked down the hallway toward the bedroom, then they looked at each other.

"Let's go," Goren said.

"It's your bedroom," Logan replied. "You first."

"What are you afraid of?"

"I don't see you running down the hall."

Goren took a deep breath and headed down the hall. He hesitated before turning the knob and opening the door.

Everything seemed to be in order. Goren walked over to the window, which he had closed before leaving the day before. Pulling the drapes aside, he saw that the window was open again. "Uh, Goren?"

"What?"

"Did you move the blanket yesterday after CSU was done?"

"No." He turned toward the bed, where the blanket had been drawn up to cover the pillow. He looked at Logan, who stepped away from the bed. Crossing from the window to the bed, he pulled back the blanket.

"Shit," Logan declared. "You're gonna need a new bed."

There was a dead seagull pinned to the bed with a large knife. Attached to the gull was a note. Goren swallowed, pulling on a pair of gloves. He slid the knife from the poor bird's body and removed the note, which was soiled by the animal's blood.

"She's a vicious bitch, isn't she?"

"You have no idea," Goren replied.

He opened the note, which was written on motel stationery from the Seaside Motel in Seaside Heights, New Jersey. It read: _It's not very far, Bobby. A leap of faith, actually. But the line between faith and insanity is ever so thin. Can you save her? You have until the light of the full moon to find out._

Goren handed the note to Logan, who read it and frowned. "What the hell does that mean?"

He didn't answer; he was studying the dead bird. It had a band on its leg. He shook his head. "She had to have seen it," he muttered.

"What? Hello? Remember me?"

He looked at Logan. "The band on the bird's leg. It's an ID band Fish and Wildlife uses to track these birds. They use them on geese, ducks, anything they can catch to study migratory patterns, nesting, things like that. We should be able to find out where this bird came from. It can't be a mistake. She had to have seen this. If nothing else, Nicole is not careless."

"She wants you to go wherever this bird came from."

"A trap…"

"Maybe. You're not going alone."

"Logan, I can't ask you…"

"Forget it, Goren. You are not asking me to do anything. I'm telling you, I'm going with you. Now shut the damn window, grab the bird and let's get the hell out of here."

**

* * *

A/N: I don't know if there's a Seaside Motel in Seaside Heights, but there very well could be.**


	6. A Promise Made

When they got to his apartment, Logan headed into the kitchen while Goren paced the living room impatiently. Coming back into the living room with two beers, he handed one to the other cop and asked, "Do you ever settle down?"

"I can't…I just…I have to keep moving."

"Why?"

Goren just shook his head. Logan wouldn't understand. Hell, Eames didn't even understand his restless energy. Logan opened the bottle and said, "Pacing a hole in my floor isn't going to make the phone ring any sooner. Did you sleep at all last night?"

"No."

"You'd better sleep tonight. If we're gonna confront your psycho tomorrow, you'll need to be sharp. Besides, I have orders from the captain to make sure you get at least a few hours before we take off half-cocked for the damn shore."

Goren sat down on the chair near the couch. He studied Logan, who was uncomfortable under his scrutiny. "What is this to you, Logan? It's not your fight."

"I told you yesterday, I like your partner. She's a good cop and face it, man, you need her. I'm not sure if I like you yet or not, but I do know I like you better when she's around. You're too damn fidgety."

Goren understood that. Even Eames had not taken to him immediately. They'd had their share of misunderstandings as they got to know each other. He knew that more than once she had been ready to pound him. That still happened…but it was rare. Goren sighed. "I'm not comfortable dragging you into this. You don't know Nicole Wallace."

"You're not dragging me anyplace, Goren. I'm coming along willingly. You always have Eames to back you up, and facing Wallace alone is simply a very bad idea. I don't want anything bad to happen to Eames, or to you, because you didn't have the backup you needed." He took another drink. "Besides, she's going to expect you to come alone. That will give us an edge, maybe even enough of one to come out of it with our skin intact."

Goren looked at the half-empty bottle in his hands. "Promise me one thing, Logan."

"What's that?"

"Promise me that when it comes down to the wire, you'll watch out for my partner. I don't really…It doesn't matter what happens to me, as long as she's okay."

Logan studied him for a long time. "You're serious."

"Of course I am. I mean, I'm not looking to not come out of this, but if it comes to a choice between Eames or me, don't hesitate. Protect her, no matter the cost to me. You got that?"

"I don't like this."

"Neither do I. But Wallace is unpredictable. And she's got it in for me. This is a battle of wits that just is not going to end well. I expect to walk away from it, but with Wallace, you never know." He met Logan's eyes. "I have to know that you're watching out for Eames. If you're going to come along, that's what I need you to do. You said you like her, and you're not sure about me. That's fine. I'm giving you a job you can do."

Logan was uncomfortable with this conversation. "I guess until this minute I didn't realize that maybe I do like you. I'm not comfortable walking into the lion's den with orders to let you fall, Goren."

"Then stay here. I don't need your help."

"Bullshit."

"I want your word."

Logan took a deep breath. "All right. I promise. I'll watch out for your partner. I just hope you realize she's going to kick my ass all over the Tri-State area for not watching out for you."

Goren almost smiled. He was right about that; Logan did know his partner. "Fine. Get her to safety, then you can help me out, if there's any way for you to do that. Can you live with that?"

Logan smiled. "Yeah, I can live with that." He got up and went into the kitchen, tossing his empty bottle in the trash. He pulled another out of the fridge and returned to the living room, handing it to Goren. "Drink that, and maybe you can unwind a little. Get some sleep and we'll get rolling as soon as we hear from Fish and Wildlife. And don't you dare take off without me, or I won't give Wallace a chance to get you. Got it?"

Goren nodded. "Got it."

Logan leaned closer. "If you want to save your partner's life, you have a better chance with me than without me. And if you want me watching out for her, I need to be with you."

The big detective nodded. "I'll be here when you get up."

"You gonna sleep?"

"I'll try."

He hit Goren in the shoulder, a gesture of friendship. "See you in the morning. Blankets are in the hall closet if you need one."

He headed down the hall and disappeared into his bedroom. Goren sat back with the fresh beer and frowned. Maybe Logan understood him better than he thought, because it had crossed his mind to take off before he got up. But he had a good point. This wasn't about him, or even Wallace, at the moment. It was about finding his partner and bringing her home alive. And like it or not, it looked like he would need Mike Logan to do that.


	7. Waiting

Eames tried to stretch the kinks out of her back while ignoring the hunger pains that stabbed at her stomach. This was getting old. She had been trying to get out of her bindings, but she was having no success. Her hands were bound by handcuffs, and her arms were tied to the chair, as were her legs. She heard a door open somewhere in the building, and she tensed. Every time Wallace came into the room, she got too close and she touched her. That just made Eames' skin crawl. As far as getting too close, she hated when anyone violated her personal space. Well, wait, that wasn't exactly true. It no longer bothered her when Bobby did it. After all, half the time he wasn't even aware of it, and he never meant to make her uncomfortable. Funny thing was, he no longer did. She actually enjoyed it when he got close. It was…comfortable.

"Good morning, detective."

Eames stiffened, consciously chasing thoughts of her partner out of her head so she could concentrate on the evil that had entered the room. She remained silent, watching as Wallace moved further into the room. "I brought you something to eat. You must keep up your strength. After all, it wouldn't do for your white knight to arrive and find you in any condition but perfect."

"I'm not hungry," Eames lied. She'd be damned if she was going to trust anything Wallace brought her. And just listening to her references to her partner fueled her anger enough to drive away the hunger. She had relented the night before and drank some water, and so far she felt fine. But she wasn't about to eat anything.

"Have it your way." She dropped a bag on the table near Eames. Then she leaned closer. "The time is near at hand, detective. He'll be here before too long." She smiled. "I haven't decided if I'm going to let him see you or not."

"What are you going to do to him?"

There was that laugh again. "That will be between him and me."

She kissed her fingers and touched Eames' cheek, laughing again as she sauntered out of the room.

Arrogant and cocky…it was never a good idea to confront her partner…her _angry_ partner…being arrogant and cocky. Of course, his anger was likely to make him careless. If only there were a way she could get out of this. She knew it was unlikely she could spare him the confrontation. But he would need the backup…and the knowledge that she was okay, so he could concentrate without distraction on defeating Nicole Wallace.


	8. Off to the Shore

_Beep…beep…beep…_ Logan rolled over and slammed his hand on the clock. "Damn alarm."

He turned it off and rolled over, sighing heavily. He got up slowly, went into the bathroom and showered and shaved. He dressed casually. After all, a suit and tie didn't look right at the beach, whether it was the off season or not. November on the beach. Shit.

He headed to the kitchen, stopping to look at the sleeping figure on the couch. Good. He got some sleep. He gently tapped Goren's head. "Hey, time to get up."

He went into the kitchen and made coffee. When he came back out into the living room, Goren was sitting up, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not the most comfortable couch. Sorry. Coffee's in the kitchen. I don't cook, so we'll stop at the deli down the street for breakfast. Fish and Wildlife call yet?"

"No."

"How much sleep did you get?"

Goren shrugged. "Couple of hours, I guess."

"How do you feel?"

The big cop turned to look at him, an odd look on his face. "What's with the twenty questions?"

"We've got a lot ahead of us. If you aren't up to it…"

"I'm up to it. What'd you do with my clothes?"

Before they left Goren's apartment the night before, he'd grabbed some clothes. "Over there by the TV. And don't wear a suit, for Pete's sake. You stand out enough without making it worse. You don't wear a damn suit to the beach unless you're a cop."

"I _am_ a cop."

"Do we want to announce it?"

"Wallace knows me, Logan. It doesn't matter how I'm dressed."

"Humor me, all right."

Goren sighed. "Fine."

Twenty minutes later, they were both ready. "Let's get some breakfast while we wait for the call," Logan said. "I work better on a full stomach."

-----------------------------------------------

Sitting at the counter in the deli, Logan was finishing his fried egg sandwich when Goren's phone rang. "Goren. Yes…that's right, sir…no, we didn't…all right…yes…thank you."

He closed the phone and looked thoughtful. Logan leaned toward him. "Goren?"

"What? Oh, sorry…that was Fish and Wildlife. You know it's illegal to kill a sea gull, don't you?"

"Fine. Let's go arrest Wallace and charge her with killing a friggin' bird."

"It came from a flock they've been monitoring along the Jersey shore. Last report had them just north of Atlantic City, near Leeds Point, but that was a few weeks ago. They spent the summer hanging around Perth Amboy, then they headed south to the Cape at the end of August. Right now all they can do is guess."

"And what's their guess?"

"Somewhere between Barnegat Lighthouse and Point Pleasant. That's about 20 miles of beach."

Logan swore. "So what do we do?"

"We get a map and see what lies between those two points."

"Because of the stationery she used…from Seaside Heights."

"Right. If Seaside lies between those two points, that's where we start."

"She didn't have to leave you a dead bird for an invitation."

"I guess she felt she did."

"I had a girlfriend like that once. She tried to kill me one night and I decided it wasn't gonna work. She killed her next boyfriend with a carving knife."

"Sounds like a winner."

"You aren't doing any better."

Goren leaned toward Logan, his voice low and threatening. "Make no mistake, Logan, I never chose her for anything. She's the one making the choices here, and they're all wrong. Got it?"

"Calm down. I know…bad joke, ok?"

"Very bad. Make another one like that and I'll deck you."

"Ok, ok. Sorry. What do we do if she's not there?"

"We keep looking."

"Until?"

"Until we find them."

"I was afraid you were going to say that."

"You don't have to come along."

"Yeah, I do. Let's go." He dropped a ten on the counter and they headed out of the deli. "You're buying lunch."


	9. Into the Lion's Den

Logan looked up and down the deserted beach. The wind that blew in off the ocean was cold and wet. He took his jacket from the back seat and pulled it on. There was no sign of the sun as it hid behind gray clouds that hung low in the sky. The surf crashed on the shore, drowning out any other sounds that might have been in the late morning air, with the exception of the cry of the gulls.

A short way down the beach sat the Seaside Motel, a run down motel that had seen much better days. Most of the windows were boarded up, and those that weren't were broken. The roof of the front porch was sagging halfway to the ground on one side, and the dunes ran almost up to the back porch, which no longer even had a roof. Goren looked around, the wind ruffling his hair and his shirt.

"Romantic," Logan commented. "I like what they've done with the place."

"Speak for yourself."

"You don't think the beach is romantic?"

"Not when I'm here with you, I don't."

Logan couldn't help but laugh. "So what's your plan?"

"I never said I had a plan."

"Great. You expect to just pop on in, say hello and take her into custody?"

"Something like that."

"No wonder they say you're nuts. What would Eames say about a plan like that?"

"Same thing you just did, and then she'd follow me inside and we'd do what we had to do."

"Yeah, you're both nuts." He picked up a shell and turned it over in his hands. "You think she's got Eames in there?"

"Yes."

"And what is she doing? Waiting for you to come in looking for her?"

"Yes."

"And you're going to do what? Waltz right in the friggin' front door?"

"Actually, yes."

He swore. "That's just what she wants you to do."

"I know. But what she doesn't know is that you are going around the back side, and you're going to slip in there, find Eames, and slip out."

"Ok. Then what?"

Goren looked at him. "You are going to keep your word, Logan. You are going to make sure my partner stays safe."

"And you think that she'll stay put just because I tell her to, knowing you're in there with Wallace, alone? She protects your life as steadfastly as you protect hers, you know."

Goren grabbed Logan's shirt and stared into his face. "You keep her safe, Logan. Got it?"

"All right, all right. I'll do my best. Can I cuff her to the car?"

A dark look crossed Goren's face, and Logan didn't like it one bit. "I'll just do what I have to, and the less you know about it the better it'll be for me."

"You've never had your ass kicked as bad as I'm going to kick it if you cause her any grief, you got me?"

"Yeah, I got it." Goren released him and he muttered, "Note to self…never joke around with Goren when he's stressed out."

He studied the big cop as he watched the motel. He finally decided that Goren did not handle worry well at all. That was a very good point to remember for future reference.

Finally Goren sighed. "You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." He looked at Goren, shaking his head. "You know, I don't know how to classify the kind of guts it takes to go after a psycho like her alone. She's shown us she has no compunction against murder. No conscience."

"She's never hurt me."

"That so? I remember the last case. Her words cut you deeper than any weapon ever could. You may not have shed a drop of blood, man, but you bled."

Goren looked away. After a moment, he looked back. Softly, he said, "Thanks for coming with me. Be careful and take care of Alex."

"I will. See you soon."

"Hopefully."

Logan disappeared into the dunes while Goren headed down the beach toward the run-down motel.


	10. Rescue in Progress

Goren stepped carefully onto the porch, listening to the boards creak under his weight. It would be a miracle if he didn't end up in the basement of the condemned building. He glanced off to his left, toward the ocean a hundred-odd yards away. Then he stepped up beside the front door, pulling his gun from its holster. Taking a deep breath, he kicked the door in and stepped into the darkness beyond it.

Standing off to the side of the door, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the building. Enough light filtered in through broken windows and gaps in the boarding to let him see the foyer. A stairway led up to the right, into the darkness of the second floor. In front of him was the reception desk. Sitting on the desk, leaning back with her ankles crossed, was Nicole Wallace.

-----------------------------------------------

Eames had dozed off in the chair. It was easier to sleep than it was to be awake, when all she could do was focus on her hunger and her concern for her partner, who she knew would not have enough sense to stay away. No, he would walk his stupid ass right into whatever it was Wallace had waiting for him, and that worried her a great deal. But there was nothing she could do about it, and that only made her angrier. Her wrists were raw from struggling against the metal cuffs, and she could feel her blood, sticky on her hands. But the pain helped take her mind away from the hunger that stabbed at her gut. No matter how she looked at it, the entire situation just sucked!

She suddenly jolted awake. What was that? There it was again… a sound in the hallway. Fuck! Just when she felt herself slipping into oblivion…a sweet oblivion she'd been retreating to where Nicole Wallace did not exist, and she and Bobby did…

Bracing herself for another humiliating conversation, she sat tensely waiting, her tension increasing as the door slowly opened. But it wasn't Nicole Wallace who stepped into the room. She didn't recognize the silhouette. Great, Wallace had an accomplice now. Where did she dig this lowlife up from?

"Alex?"

That voice…she knew that voice… "Mike?"

Stepping closer, into the shafts of light that sliced into the room, Mike Logan dropped to a knee beside her chair. "Hey, are you ok?"

His hands touched her head, her shoulders…searching for injury…"I'm ok, Mike. What are you doing here? Where's Bobby?"

"I've come to get you out of here and make sure you're safe."

He pulled out a pocketknife and sliced through the cords that bound her to the chair. Quietly pulling out his keys, he found his handcuff key and released her wrists. "Where's Bobby?" she asked again.

"He's…being Bobby. He's gone after Wallace so I can get you the hell out of here."

"No…No, Mike. Is he crazy? We can't let him…"

Logan grabbed her face between his hands. "There's nothing you can do, Alex. Nothing except get him killed. Let him do what he has to do. If something happens to you, then all this will be for nothing. If you really care about your partner, you'll come with me and get the hell out of here. And I have no comment on the crazy part."

"But…"

"Come on." He grabbed her hand and pulled her gently to the boarded up window. Kicking out enough of the boards to make a hole big enough for them to slip out, he followed her from the room, down into the sand. "Glad it was a first floor room," he commented. "Come on."

He led her up the beach, away from the motel, toward his car. Once there, he said, "Let me see those wrists."

"How did you know where to find me?"

"Wallace led us here. She sent him an…interesting message, and of course he responded to it just like she knew he would. Brilliant plan, taking you as a hostage. That way she knew there was no way he wouldn't come, and you wouldn't be there to back him up, like you always are. But what she didn't figure on was that I would be with him. So, since I have obviously lost my mind, I am going back in there to back him up, but I want your word as a cop that you will stay right here and wait for us, or I won't go."

"Mike…"

"You want me to cuff you to the steering wheel?" She was quiet, glaring angrily at him. He shook his head. "Don't be stubborn, Eames. He made me promise that I would make sure you were safe, no matter what happened to him. Don't make me break my word or he'll break my body. Something bad is going to happen to him if I don't get in there. But I am not going, unless I have your word you'll stay here. There's some water and a couple of burgers in the back seat. Help yourself. Can I go now, or do I have to stay here with you to keep my promise?"

Eames studied him, torn between her loyalty to her partner and Logan's threat. Compromise…that's how she and Goren worked. "I'll stay here, but only for fifteen minutes. After fifteen minutes, I'm coming in. Got it?"

Well, it was better than nothing. Could they take Wallace down in fifteen minutes? He sure hoped so. All he knew was that he was losing time arguing about it, and he was anxious to get back to the motel. "How about twenty?"

"Fifteen, Logan."

"All right. Fifteen minutes."

He opened the glove box and pulled out a .38, handing it to her without a word. He turned to head back to the motel. "Mike…" He looked back at her. "Don't let him do anything stupid."

"Sure, ok…and you stop the sun from setting tonight." She gave him a look that made him as uncomfortable as any Goren had given him lately. "I'll do what I can."


	11. The Fine Line

She shifted on the desk, watching him through the darkness. "Hello, Bobby."

"Where is she, Nicole?"

"Where is who?"

"My partner, that's who!"

"We're a little testy today, aren't we? I haven't harmed her, if that's what you're wondering." She studied him, smiling a wicked, feral smile. "Oh, put your gun away. I'm unarmed. I just want to talk to you."

"You aren't usually this forthcoming with your threats. Why go after my partner?"

"Because she's so much a part of you. If I strike at you, I don't have much of an impact. If I strike at someone you love, well, you're here, aren't you?"

Someone he loved…He let it go. But she'd seen him tense, and she laughed. "If there is a thin line between faith and insanity, then the line between love and hate is ever so much thinner, isn't it? Maybe even indistinguishable."

"Not in my book."

"Oh? And what book is that?"

"I have no problem discerning between love and hate."

"Then you are lying to yourself. The world is not so black and white as you make it out to be. You love your mother, right?"

"Yes."

"But don't you hate her…for what she did to you…for driving Daddy away. And Daddy…you loved him but hated him for leaving…for his brutality…for dying. The ultimate departure. Where's big brother, Bobby?"

"I…I don't know."

She laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. "Has anyone _ever_ stayed? In one way or another, everyone has left you. Face it, you live alone in a lonely world. How can you love anyone if no one has ever loved you?"

He had crossed the room, but he had not put his gun away. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" She moved closer, so that her face was inches from his. "Love, hate…how do you know what you really feel? Do you hate me, Bobby," she taunted. "Or do you love me?"

"No!" He stepped away. "You…you couldn't even love your little girl! What is there to love in you, Nicole? You only hate. You hate others; you hate yourself, what you have become."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Your hatred, Bobby…your hatred of yourself…"

"No…no…I am not like you. I…I am not a lost cause."

"Ah, yes…your savior. She has saved you from yourself, hasn't she? Do you think she loves you?"

"It doesn't matter. She is the one who didn't leave."

"But she will."

"That's entirely her call. If she decides to leave, I won't stop her."

"How alone will you be then, Bobby? Everyone you love goes away…But I won't go away…"

"No. You won't. But what's to love in you? You're an empty shell of humanity with a heart of stone that feels nothing."

"I can love! If I want to…"

He shook his head, his gun arm at his side. "No, I really don't think you can. No more than the devil can."

She swung to hit him, but he caught her hand, looking into her cold, hard eyes as he said, "Love…hate…What's the difference? Nicole Wallace, you are under arrest. Again."

He slid his gun into its holster and pulled out his cuffs. But as he moved to put them on her, she spun toward him. "Never lower your guard with me, Bobby," she hissed, as she buried the knife in her hand into his abdomen. She smiled at him. "Ah, yes. I said I was unarmed." She moved her face close to his. "I lied." She studied him. "I wonder if I actually do love you, Bobby." Unexpectedly, she kissed him. "Good-bye."

He doubled over, fire burning through his gut. As he collapsed onto the floor, blood spilling over his hands, he swore that the last thing he saw in his life was _not_ going to be Nicole Wallace.


	12. Slipping Away

Logan waited in the shadows, not sure what he could do to help Goren in his verbal sparring match with Wallace. Somewhere along the way, Eames had joined him, but he couldn't be sure how long she was there. They saw Nicole move as he went to arrest her and they saw her move away, and he fell to the floor as she left the room. "No…" Eames gasped.

Logan couldn't stop her from running to her partner's side. "No…No…Bobby, talk to me!"

Logan slipped his phone into her hand. "Call for an ambulance."

And he took off after Wallace.

Eames fumbled with the phone, hitting 9-1-1… "We have an officer down….We need an ambulance at the Seaside Motel…hurry, damn it!"

She moved his hands from the injury and slid his shirt up. She could feel the blood flowing from the wound and she pressed her hands against it, putting as much of her weight behind them as she could. Tears slid down her face. "Bobby…stay with me…please…"

He groaned. She leaned as close as she could without easing up on the pressure she was putting on his abdomen. "Talk to me, dammit. Goren, talk to me…" She was shouting; she couldn't help it. "Please…"

His eyelids fluttered as he tossed his head from side to side, groaning. "Eames?"

"I'm right here, Bobby. Stay with me."

He opened his eyes, swallowing hard. "Where are you?"

"Right here. There's an ambulance on the way. Hang in there, you hear me?"

He nodded, turning his head toward her. He had trouble seeing her through the darkness. "Are you...ok?"

"Yes."

"Logan?"

"He went after Nicole."

"No!"

He started to struggle, but she pressed harder. "Stay still!" she yelled, feeling a fresh gush of blood against her hands. "Dammit, Bobby, stay still!"

He moaned. "No..." he said, more quietly. "Mike...she can't…don't trust her…help him, Alex…"

"I'm not leaving you. Not until the ambulance gets here."

"What ambulance?"

"Bobby…don't do this…please…stay with me."

"I'm right...here, Alex. I...I won't...leave you."

"Promise?"

He nodded, struggling to keep the darkness at bay, to stay with her. "Promise."

She heard the sirens drawing closer. "They're almost here. Hang in there."

He nodded. "I need…." He swallowed again. "Alex…"

She leaned closer. "I'm right here." She could barely make out his face in the dim light. "What do you need?"

"I need…tell me something…"

She heard doors slamming. "What?"

"Do you…do you…?"

"Do I what?" His breathing was becoming more ragged. "Bobby!"

"Love…?" He was having trouble focusing.

She'd heard Wallace trying to plant seeds of insecurity about her in his mind; he needed reassurance. "Yes, Bobby. I do love you. Now you hang in there or I swear I'll kick your ass all over eternity when I get ahold of you."

He smiled weakly. "I…I love you…too…"

The doors burst open, flooding the room with light, and two paramedics dropped to their knees beside him. "Keep your hands there," one said to her. "Keep the pressure...Was he conscious at all?"

"Y-yes…he just…he was just talking to me."

"Good. Let's get this IV started so we don't lose him when we move him." He worked for a minute. "Got it…hanging normal saline, wide open…"

From behind her another paramedic appeared, squatting beside her. "What's his name?"

"Goren. Robert Goren."

"And what happened?"

"He's a cop. He was attacked by a suspect. Knife wound to the abdomen."

"Any other injuries?"

"No."

"Are you related?"

"I'm his partner."

"Does he have any other health problems we should be aware of?"

"No. He's healthy."

"We need you to come to the hospital, to provide information."

She nodded, turning her attention back to her unconscious partner and the two paramedics working on him.

Beside her, the first paramedic was hanging another bag of saline while across from her a third was pumping up a blood pressure cuff. "I can't get a pressure. Let's get him out of here, now."

They slid a stretcher up beside him. One of the paramedics said to her, "He's a big guy, so the three of us are going to lift him onto the stretcher. Don't you ease up on that pressure. Got it?"

She nodded. "I got it."

"One...two...three..." She stayed with him, keeping the pressure against his wound while they got him onto the stretcher. She cringed as a fresh gush of warmth hit her hands; she pressed harder. Then the first paramedic slid his hands next to hers. "Ok, I got it. Slide away and I'll take over," he said to her.

"No…I…"

"It's ok. Let him go," said a voice in her ear, as the third paramedic placed a gentle hand on her back. "You did well. We'll take care of him now, I promise."

She stepped away, reluctantly. _Let him go..._ No...! She leaned down, placing her head beside his while they secured him to the stretcher. "You promised, remember?" she whispered into his ear. "Don't you stop fighting. I'll be there shortly."

She kissed his temple as she stood up. Slowly she backed away, looking around. Logan…she had to find Logan…

Looking back toward the door, she heard "...another bag of saline...," then lost what the paramedics were saying as they ran out of the building with her partner. She heard doors slamming again, an engine running, and the sirens again…fading quickly into the distance.

She wiped her hands on her pants as she ran out of the building. Taking the .38 Logan had given her from her pocket, she stopped on the porch, making sure it was loaded and ready to use. She heard the cops who had just arrived call to her, but she ignored them, running out onto the beach and looking up and down the shoreline. She saw a figure standing in the ocean, on the shore side of the breakers, and she ran toward it, gun at the ready.

It was Logan, standing up to his waist in the surf, staring out to sea. "Mike?" She yelled to be heard over the crashing waves.

He didn't move. She waded up to him, grabbing onto his arm. He was almost as tall as Bobby was, and the water was much deeper on her, tossing her about more easily than it did him. He didn't look at her; he just stared out to sea, trying to catch his breath. "She…she ran…away from the motel…toward the ocean. I…I fired at her…but I don't know if I hit her. She…" He looked at her and pointed out toward the open ocean. "She jumped into the fucking surf, Alex! How crazy is that bitch?" He looked back out toward the waves.

"Crazy like a fox, Logan. Unless I see her lifeless body in front of me, I will not believe she's dead."

"I…I mean…she just…" He continued looking incredulously out to sea, still breathing hard, as though he'd just run a marathon.

"Excuse me?" came a shout from behind them.

They turned to look at the police officer who was standing on the sand just beyond the waterline, watching them as the surf tried to toss them about. Eames tugged on Logan's arm. "Come on, Mike."

They walked out of the water and headed toward the officer, whose hand was resting on his sidearm. "How's Bobby?" Logan asked, stopping as he really looked at her for the first time since she'd joined him in the surf. "Is all that blood his?"

She looked down at her clothes, covered in her partner's blood; the sea had washed her hands and arms mostly clean. She nodded. "She stabbed him in the abdomen, Mike. He didn't look good."

They pulled out their badges and offered them to the waiting cop. "NYPD? What are you folks doing here? And the call we got for an officer down…?"

She nodded. "My partner. He's the one they took to the hospital."

"We had an incident," Logan started. "A crime that started in Manhattan and got carried on all the way down here. It's a long story, and we really ought to get to the hospital…"

"I'm going to need more than that for my report, detective."

"Look, Officer…" He looked at his name tag. "…Mitchell, we've had a long hard day. We could use something hot to drink, maybe a bite to eat, and some news about our friend. We're not the bad guys here."

"Uh, where _are_…the bad guys?"

"Just one…" Logan said. "One bad guy, uh, girl…uh, the perp…got away…" He pointed out to sea. "She jumped in the ocean when I was chasing her."

"No joke?" Mitchell looked at him skeptically.

Logan leaned closer to him, one step from going over the edge and decking him. "Do I _look _like I'm joking?"

"Uh, no, you don't. I'll call the Coast Guard. Do you have a car?"

Logan pointed toward his car. "Yeah, up that way."

"Get your car and follow me. I'll take you to get a bite to eat and warm up, then we can go to the hospital to check on your friend."


	13. Telling the Tale

It was a small diner, but it was warm and had an air of coziness that offered the two detectives a small modicum of comfort. They slid into a booth opposite Officer Mitchell, and a waitress handed them menus.

Mitchell looked at their tired faces, and he could clearly see the worry in Eames' eyes. "Excuse me for a minute and I'll call to see how your friend is doing."

They watched him slide from the booth. Eames was staring at her menu, but she wasn't seeing it. Logan gently took it from her hands. "Let's start with some soup, ok?"

"I…Mike…" She looked at him. "What the hell kind of backup did we give him? We stood there and watched while she stabbed him and ran."

"Did you see the weapon?"

"No."

"Did you think for a second she'd hurt him?"

"I…she had never threatened him physically before. She preferred to play mind games with him."

"Mind games with Goren…God, she really is crazy. So what did we do wrong? If we'd seen or suspected any kind of physical threat, we were right there. I'd have gone in, in a heartbeat. He was expecting me to be there, Alex. I _told_ him I would be. He must not have felt threatened, or he'd have indicated it."

She looked at her hands, which she'd washed several times to get out the blood the sea had not washed away. She sighed, half in aggravation, half in exasperation. "Bobby _never_ feels threatened."

Logan remembered being trapped in a locked down prison with him, when their lives actually were threatened. Goren never acted threatened, and he'd talked down those guards…Logan had thought then that the big cop from Major Case was a crazy S.O.B. But he'd saved their lives, and he had always been grateful for that. "He always protects whoever he's with, doesn't he?"

She nodded. "Yes, he does."

Mitchell came back and slid into the booth. "They got him stabilized and into surgery. The knife hit his liver and he lost a lot of blood. They'll call me when they know more." He looked at Eames. "I have a message for you from the docs, detective. You were the one who put pressure on his wound right away, and held it there, right?"

"Yes. I kept him talking for as long as he could…"

"Well, the docs said to tell you that you saved his life, kept him from bleeding out. I thought maybe that'd help you feel a little better."

"Thank you," Eames said quietly.

Logan saw the tear roll down her cheek. "She's been through an ordeal," he said. "We came down here to save her life."

Mitchell glanced at the menu; he'd been here a hundred times and almost had it memorized. Setting the plastic-encased paper aside, he looked at Eames and Logan. "You folks want to tell me what went down out there?"

Piece by piece they put it all together for the officer, interrupted only by the waitress stopping by for their order. Logan ordered vegetable beef soup for him and Eames, and a corned beef sandwich for him with coffee for both of them. Mitchell ordered the meatloaf special. Their food came as Logan wrapped up the story. "She stabbed Bobby, ran out of the damn hotel and jumped into the ocean. End of story."

Eames idly stirred her soup with her spoon. "She'll be back. She can't leave him alone."

"What is it about him that she keeps coming back to?" Mitchell asked.

"No one knows," Eames answered. "Not even him."

"She's not right in the head," Logan said. "I still can't believe she jumped into the damn ocean and swam out to sea!"

Eames was silent, staring into her soup again, pushing it around with her spoon, but not eating it. Neither Logan nor Mitchell knew what to say, so they stayed quiet. Logan finished his sandwich and Mitchell focused on his potatoes. The Seaside cop's radio came to life and he took one more bite of meatloaf. "I've gotta run." He pulled out his pen and scribbled something into his notebook. Ripping out the page, he handed it to Logan. "Here are directions to the hospital and my number. Call me if you need anything while you're here, and please let me know how your friend makes out." He got up. "Don't worry about dinner. I've got it."

"Thanks," Logan shook his hand. Eames just smiled at him, and he laid a hand on her shoulder as he passed her on his way toward the door. He waved to the waitress, pointing to the table and calling, "I'll get it later."

She waved back and he was gone. Moments later, they heard a squeal of tires punctuated by the siren of his patrol car as he pealed from the parking lot. The waitress came to the table and refilled their coffee cups. Logan watched Eames as she returned to contemplating her soup. Finally, he slid his arm along the back of the booth behind her and leaned toward her. "He's going to be ok, Eames."

She frowned at him. "How do you know that, Mike? Do not patronize me, if you know what's good for you."

"I'm not patronizing you. I really believe that."

"Ok, cue me in. How do you know that?"

"First of all, this has become a war, and he's not going to let her win." She understood that reasoning and nodded in agreement. "Secondly," he went on. "He's not going to leave you."

She looked at him. "What are you talking about?"

He considered the best way to explain this to her. "You didn't see him, Alex. He was ready to explode but he had nothing to direct it at. He…didn't do well at all without you. I've seen how you moderate his moods, and without you…" He shook his head. "Now look at you, everything you've been through the past couple of days, and you can't get your mind off _him_." He nodded at her bowl. "You won't eat, and you really need to. If Barek and I can develop even part of a connection like you have with him, she'll be the best partner I ever had, and I've had some damn good partners."

She couldn't explain it, even to herself. All she knew was that she worried about her partner and he watched out for her. They did have a connection, an emotional attachment to each other that somehow transcended the partnership. "Let's go to the hospital, Mike."

"I was waiting for you to say that."

He dropped a five on the table and they headed out to his car.


	14. Postop Report

The surgical waiting room was mostly empty. A small family was gathered near the fish tank, waiting word about their grandfather who was undergoing bypass surgery. On the other side of the room, Eames had fallen asleep with her head resting against Logan's shoulder. As tired as he was though, he could not force himself to rest. He was thinking about Goren and Eames. When Eames had disappeared, he had slowly watched Goren come unraveled. He had not realized how much the big cop depended on his diminutive partner until he'd seen it for himself. Eames, though nothing like her unconventional partner, was no better. Once he'd gotten her away from Wallace, all she did was worry about her partner, to the point where she headed back into the place of her captivity to back him up. He would never forget the emotion in her voice when she saw Goren collapse. And then she'd joined him in the surf, covered in the big cop's blood. He couldn't even imagine what it had been like for her, waiting for the ambulance and trying to keep her partner from bleeding to death.

"Detectives?"

Logan looked up at the doctor and gently nudged Eames. She looked around the room, and her shoulders sagged. It hadn't been a nightmare; it was real. The doctor came forward and sat in a chair across from them. He looked at Eames. "You are his partner?" She nodded. "What have they told you?"

"Not much. They said he was stabbed in the liver, and that he was stable and in surgery, and that's all they knew."

"By the time they got him here, he was deep in shock. He lost a great deal of blood. The wound was deep and the liver is rich with blood. How did he get stabbed?"

"He was arresting a suspect."

"Well, whoever it was that stabbed him twisted the knife as he withdrew it. That did a great deal more damage than a simple stab wound would have. We were able to repair the damage, though, and he will be fine. Give him three or four days here and he'll be ready to go home. Were you there when he was stabbed?" They both nodded. "Which of you applied the pressure to his wound?"

Eames answered, "I didn't know what else to do."

"I don't know if anyone told you, but that simple measure of basic first aid saved that man's life. Nice job, detective. He's in recovery now, receiving another unit of blood. We'll transfer him up to the third floor in a little while. We'll let you know when he's transferred."

"How much longer will he be in recovery?"

"Maybe another hour or so. We want him to come out from under the anesthesia and be responsive."

"Thank you, doctor."

The doctor left the room and she fell back against the chair. Logan watched her. "Stop staring at me, Logan," she snapped.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to stare." He hesitated. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, Mike. I'm fine."

"Forgive me for saying you don't look fine."

She opened her mouth to reply, but changed her mind. She just looked at him and then she said, "Can I ask you something?"

"Ok."

"Why are you here? Did Bobby ask you to come?"

"You know your partner. Do you _think_ he asked me to come?"

"Then why are you here?"

"Because he would have come down here alone, and then you'd both be dead. He needed me to come along, whether he wanted to admit he did or not. I had to bully him some, but he eventually agreed to let me back him up. I'm glad he did."

"I thought you didn't like him."

"Yeah. I thought so, too. No one's more surprised than I am, believe me."

She smiled at that. "Thank you, Mike."

"So now you know he's going to be ok. If I get you something to eat, will you eat it?"

"All right. I'll eat something."

He smiled. "There's gotta be someplace in this one-horse town to get something to eat, even at this hour. I'll be right back."

He returned twenty minutes later with a burger, fries and a cola for her, and he sat back, watching her finally eat.


	15. Bedside Visit

It was more than two hours after the doctor had come to talk with them that a nurse finally came looking for them. "Are you the detectives who are here with Detective Goren?"

"Yes," Eames answered.

"He's upstairs now, if you want to go see him."

"What took so long?" Logan asked. "You forget we were here?"

"He hasn't _let_ us forget you're here," she answered. "He had a little trouble coming out of the anesthesia."

"Is he ok?"

"He's in and out of it, but that's to be expected. Overall, he's doing very well. He keeps asking for you."

She walked with them to the doorway of the waiting room and said, "Down the hall to the elevators and up to the third floor. He's in room 311."

They walked quietly into the room. He seemed to be sleeping. Reaching out, Eames touched his cheek. With an effort, he forced his eyes open. She held his gaze, feeling a churning maze of conflicting emotion. "How could you let her do this to you?"

"I never expected…"

"I know you didn't, but damn it, you should have! Expect the unexpected, remember? We talked about it last time…" She stopped. He deserved to be yelled at, and she needed to yell at him. But it could wait. She stepped closer and hugged him. "Damn you, Goren. You scared the hell out of me."

He kissed her head lightly, resting his hand on her back. "Sorry."

He looked past her at Logan and held out his hand. Logan gripped it. "Thanks, Mike," he said simply.

"You can take care of her from now on. She doesn't listen to me for beans."

Goren smiled wearily. "It's ok. She doesn't listen to me much, either."

She pulled back from his arms and looked from one to the other, finally focusing on her partner. "If you listened to me at all, Goren, you wouldn't be here."

She walked away from the bed and leaned against the window sill, studying Goren intently. "What?" he asked.

Quietly, she said, "She knew you'd come."

"I had to."

"It was a smart move, bringing Mike with you."

"I didn't bring him. He came along."

"Would you have come alone?"

"Yes."

"Idiot." He looked away, but she didn't let him get away with that. "She's a psychopath, Bobby. Unpredictable."

"I know." Another thought entered his drug-blurred mind. "You're both ok, right?"

"Yeah," Logan answered. "Nice of you to think of asking."

He ignored the comment. "Did you arrest her?"

Eames shook her head. "She got away again."

He tried to hide his frustration, without much success. "How'd that happen?"

Annoyed, Logan snapped, "We had so much fun we thought it would be a kick in the pants to try it again another day."

Goren frowned at him. Eames shook her head. "Don't be an ass, Logan." She turned back to her partner. "I stayed with you and called for an ambulance. Do you remember any of that?"

"Some."

"Mike took off after Nicole."

Logan met Goren's eyes. "I always thought _you_ were on the edge. Wallace is friggin' certifiable. She jumped into the surf and swam out toward the open ocean."

Eames added. "She'll be back. She's got more lives than a cat." She looked at her partner, noticing he was fading out. "Go to sleep, Goren. We'll be back in the morning." She walked to the bed and gently kissed his temple. "Thanks for coming after me," she said softly. "I knew you would, whether I thought you should or not."

"I always will," he answered.

She laid a hand on his cheek. "I know. Good night, Bobby."

She and Logan headed for the door. Logan turned in the doorway. "Goren?"

Goren looked at him; every move took more and more effort. "What?"

"You did everything right. It's not your fault she got away."

The big cop shook his head, anger flaring for a moment. "I let my guard down. That's why I'm here. It won't happen again."

"It better not. Get some sleep."

"Mike…Thanks for watching out for...my partner."

Logan smiled, then left the room. Goren tried to fight it a little longer but had little success, and he slept.


	16. Reporting In

**A/N: Thanks, blucougar57, for reminding me about Deakins!

* * *

**

Angie Deakins watched her husband pacing the bedroom floor. "Oh, for Pete's sake, Jimmy, come to bed."

"I'm sorry, Angie. It's been a very long day. Goren and Logan went off to find Eames, and I haven't heard a word from them. The suspect is one we've dealt with before, and she particularly has it out for Bobby. I'm worried." He sighed. "I don't mean to keep you up. I'll go down to the den." He crossed the room and kissed his wife. "Good night, sweetheart."

Angie smiled fondly after her husband. He worried almost as much about those detectives of his as he did about their daughters. With a sigh, she turned over and pulled up the blanket, closing her eyes.

In the den, Deakins resumed his pacing. They _knew_ better! Unless something went very wrong…but still…they _knew_ better! When he finally got in touch with them…The phone in his pocket rang, shattering the silence of the den and disturbing his pacing. Looking at the caller ID, he breathed half a sigh of relief. It was Logan. He flipped the phone open. "This better be good, Logan."

"If it's not, I can make something up."

"I am _not_ in the mood. Where are you?"

"In a sweet little motel in Seaside Heights, New Jersey. Such a lovely place in mid-November…"

"Mike, if you don't tell me what's going on, I'm going to drive down there myself and…"

"Ok, ok, Captain. We ran into some trouble."

"You and Goren running into trouble…that does nothing for my headache."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't the one who ran into anything."

"Did you find Eames?"

"Yes, and she's fine."

Deakins released the other half of his sigh of relief. "So why are you still there? Was there a problem arresting Wallace?"

"You might say that. She tried to kill Goren. He's in the hospital and she…well, she got away."

The captain couldn't believe his ears. "Did you just tell me Goren's in the hospital and Wallace got away? Please tell me that's not what you said!"

"You want me to lie to you?"

Deakins ran a hand over his hair. "Is Bobby ok?"

"I suppose that's a matter of opinion…"

"Logan!"

"No, he's not ok, but he will be. She stuck a knife in his gut and he damn near bled to death. If it hadn't been for Eames, he would have."

That didn't surprise him at all. "Just how did Wallace get away?"

"You're not gonna believe this."

"Try me."

"I was there and I still don't believe it. She jumped into the surf and swam out to sea. So far the Coast Guard's come up empty. Now me, I'm hoping she's shark bait, but Goren and Eames seem to think she'll be back."

Deakins closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You and Eames are ok?"

"Yes. We're fine."

"And Goren will be?"

"That's what they say. Doc says he'll be discharged in a couple of days."

"I'm not letting you boys go off to play any more."

"Aw, Dad, that's not fair. We were just starting to have fun."

Deakins laughed. "I always thought you didn't like Goren."

"That's what Eames said, too. He's not so bad, once you get used to him. It's the 'getting used to' part that's the hardest."

"Are you coming back tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but Eames is gonna stay. Barek and I can come down to get them when they release him."

"All right. I'll see you tomorrow, and I expect a full report."

"You'll have it. G'night, Captain."

Deakins closed the phone. The threat Wallace posed to his detectives had now escalated, and he didn't like that one bit. He agreed with Goren and Eames; he'd be willing to bet the farm that she'd be back to cause them more grief.

He entered the bedroom quietly and slipped into bed beside his wife. She rolled over and snuggled into his arms. "They called?"

"Yeah. Bobby's in the hospital."

"Is he all right?"

"He will be. Logan and Eames are fine."

"So we can go to sleep now?"

He kissed her forehead. "Yes."

Her eyes were already closed, but it was a long while before he followed suit.


	17. Shouting Match

Goren readjusted himself on the couch, trying to find a position that didn't hurt so much. Eames came out of the kitchen with a glass of water. She placed four pills in his hand. "I really can go home, Eames."

"Not until you get that bed replaced, unless you particularly _want_ to sleep in seagull blood."

"Not particularly, but I have a couch. I don't want to put you out."

She shook her head and headed back toward the kitchen. "You're not putting me out. I don't sleep on the couch, Goren."

He listened to her move about in the kitchen, opening the refrigerator, rattling silverware, and he leaned his head back, making a game of identifying the noises she was making. When the noises stopped, he opened his eyes and she was standing near the small dining table in the breakfast nook watching him. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"I thought you were sleeping." She studied him for a long moment. He still looked pale, and he had not yet recovered that boundless energy that never let him stay still for long. Quietly, she said, "What are we going to do? She still has my keys, Bobby. She knows where we live and she can gain access to either of our apartments at any time. I…I know I'm not comfortable being alone here."

"Well, we change the locks. Or we move into new apartments. Or we just stay here together and never live alone again." She stared at him, mouth open slightly. He laughed, wincing. "I was joking, Eames. We'll help you move, if you want a new place."

"'We?' Just who are you volunteering to help move furniture?"

"Logan. He bullied me into bringing him along with me. I'll bully him into moving some furniture."

"So you and Logan have decided to be buds?"

"I wouldn't call us 'buds' exactly. No. But he's all right."

"Funny. He said the same thing about you."

"Is lunch ready?" He was ready to change the subject.

She smiled. "I'll bring it over…"

He raised a hand. "No. I can get up. I'm not an invalid."

"But…"

"A little suffering is good for the soul. I'm not going to break, Eames."

She watched him get off the couch, struggling to hide the pain it caused. He did everything he could to hide his discomfort from her, though she really wasn't sure why. Anytime he used his upper abdominal muscles, she could tell it caused him pain, so getting up and down was hard for him. But he wouldn't let her do much of anything for him, insisting he could do it for himself. So she let him be stubborn.

"Coffee?" she asked.

He just nodded. She set a cup of coffee in front of him and sat down across from him. She watched him for a moment before she said, "Bobby, we need to talk."

All the time she'd spent with him over the three days they'd kept him in the hospital, and they had both pointedly avoided discussing Wallace and what she had done. They needed to talk about it, whether they wanted to or not. "About what?"

"Don't play dumb with me."

"Eames, I don't want to…"

"I know you don't, but we need to. _I_ need to." She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Bobby, I haven't spent my life burying things and not talking about them. I can't do that like you can."

He looked down at his plate, scowling. He didn't like being reminded of his tendency to bury what he felt, especially when it involved something difficult or overwhelming. "Eat your lunch," she said, trying to placate him. He knew she wasn't letting it go, and he tried to eat slowly, but she wouldn't let him get away with that either.

When she was done eating she set her dish in the sink and walked up behind him. Leaning over and resting her chin on his shoulder, she said softly, "It doesn't take an hour to eat a sandwich. Come on. Finish up."

He stiffened when she kissed the side of his head above his ear. Damn. He finished his lunch reluctantly, set his plate in the sink and sat beside her on the couch. She smiled at him. "You can't run away from me here."

"I can't _run_ anywhere at the moment."

"You know what I mean."

"Would you let me get away with it?"

"Not a chance."

"Ok, then."

"Before I say anything else, I need to get something out." He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. She smacked his shoulder. "You idiot! After all we talked about you walked right into it and let her damn near kill you!"

"I…couldn't stay away. I had to…"

She let her anger build. She needed to be mad at him right now. "You had to what? Get yourself killed?"

"I wasn't trying to do that. I just…I had to get you out of there, away from her. What the hell was I supposed to do? Walk away?"

"You went after her alone, damn you!"

"I couldn't send anyone else. This was between her and me. You know that. She'd never physically attacked me before. I…I wasn't prepared for it."

"You should have been! I told you…"

"I know, I know…you told me…" He got off the couch, grunting, and he began pacing, angry and agitated. "Hindsight is 20/20, Eames. Now I know…what she's capable of…"

"You always knew what she was capable of! You just never thought she'd turn that against you. Why should you be immune to her evil?"

"She always got a bigger kick out of the psychological abuse."

"Well, I guess that's getting old now and she wants to see real pain."

"If she wanted to cause me real pain," he yelled. "She would have hurt you."

She fell silent, and she just sat there and stared at him. It took him a moment to realize she wasn't yelling at him any more. He stopped and looked at her. "What?" he asked more quietly.

"Settle down and come over here," she said softly, her anger gone.

"I…"

"I'm done, Bobby. I'm not going to yell at you any more."

It took him a few minutes to settle himself down. The truth of the matter was he was angrier at himself for letting this happen than she could ever be at him. He understood her anger, and he knew she needed to yell at him. He wasn't quite sure why he'd yelled back though. He sat down, a little too heavily, sending a jarring pain through his upper abdomen up into his chest. He doubled over, waiting for it to subside. As the pain faded, he became aware that she'd moved right up against him, draping her arm across his back and pressing her forehead against the side of his head. As his breathing eased, she whispered, "Are you ok?"

He nodded, and she sat back. Slowly he leaned back. "I'm sorry," he said.

"For what?"

"For yelling. You didn't do anything wrong. It was all me. I let my guard down; I let her get to me."

"She always gets to you."

"Not usually with steel, though."

He looked at her, realization dawning. She'd baited him, gotten him angry, and he'd confessed something he otherwise never would have. "Damn it, Eames. You did that on purpose."

"Of course I did. But I needed to yell at you. You put yourself in a lethal situation, because you were angry. You can't ever do that again."

"She crossed some invisible line with me when she brought you into it."

"But you let her get the better of you. You let her see that she hit you right where she meant to. She knew you'd do exactly what you did, all because she took me away from you. The only thing that saved us, Bobby, was Mike Logan."

He nodded, looking at the floor and not at her. She was exactly right. If he'd gone alone, as he'd first intended, she would have killed him and then left Eames to die a slow death in the abandoned building. Anger again flared, and he trembled. He had no vent for it; he wouldn't take it out on her again. "How could I be so stupid?"

She watched his fists clench and unclench, saw the firm set of his jaw, and she knew he was angry. She also knew that he was most angry at himself. And she wasn't quite sure how to defuse his anger. She touched his arm, and he pulled away. He didn't usually do that. He was afraid…afraid of how he was feeling, and he didn't want to say anything that would hurt her. She didn't push it. She moved away, to the far end of the couch, and sat quietly, picking up a book she'd been reading. When he was ready, he'd let her know. He always did. This wasn't over yet…he still had explaining to do.


	18. A Difficult Talk

When Eames got home from work the next day, he was sleeping, but dinner was sitting on the stove, and it was still warm. She smiled at him. Years ago, she had teased him, thinking he was a typical bachelor who couldn't boil water without a manual. That was before she realized that if he was anything, he was definitely not typical. No, Bobby had made her eat those words many times over, and she had enjoyed every single bite. She took out two plates and set them on the counter, accidentally knocking over his medicine bottles. She opened the bottles and checked to see if he'd remembered to take his medicine. He had taken his antibiotics, but not the pain medicine. She wondered if it was because he was feeling better. She dished out two plates and brought one over to him, setting it on the coffee table. She eased herself down on the couch beside him and touched his cheek. Slowly, he opened his eyes, surprised to see her. "What time is it?"

"Time to eat."

Carefully, he sat up, bracing his arm across his abdomen. She eased herself onto the cushion beside him after he swung his legs over and rested against the back of the couch. "So what did you do today?" she asked, handing him his plate.

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you think I did?"

"I suppose it's safe to assume you didn't go jogging."

"That would be a safe bet."

"Is there anything about you that's a safe bet, Bobby?"

He smiled. "I would venture to guess you know me well enough by now to know the answer to that."

She laughed. "We've been partners for more than five years, and you still keep me guessing."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"No, it's not. Life with you is never boring." She remained quiet for a little while before she finally began a conversation she'd been practicing in her head all day. As many different ways that she imagined it could go, there was no way for her to predict which one, if any, would be the right one. "I want to ask you something, Bobby."

He looked at her. Lately, conversations that began that way had not gone well for him. It ranked right up there with 'We need to talk.' "What?" he asked almost defensively.

She sighed, getting the feeling it wasn't going to go as well as she had hoped it would. So she mulled over in her mind exactly how she should phrase her question. "Yesterday," she began, noticing that he tensed at that one word. She had no doubt he knew what was coming, but, to his credit, he stayed where he was and let her continue. "You said something that I haven't been able to get out of my mind."

"What was that?"

He knew. She knew he did. He wasn't going to make this easy for her. Quietly, she said, "You said that if Nicole wanted to cause you real pain, she would have hurt me."

"And?"

He _really_ wasn't going to make this easy. She was going to approach this from a different angle. "Do you remember any of the conversation we had while we were waiting for the ambulance?"

He shifted uncomfortably, and it wasn't pain that made him uncomfortable at the moment. He shook his head. "Not really."

"Do you want to know?"

He looked at her suspiciously. "I don't know. Do I?"

"I can't answer that for you. Tell me what you do remember."

He looked away. "You told me you were ok and that Logan…went after Nicole. You were…upset."

"And that's all you remember?"

He nodded. "That's all. Why? What did I say?"

"Not much. Do you remember your conversation with Nicole?"

"Yes."

"She tried to tell you I was going to leave, too." He refused to look at her. "And you told her…"

She deliberately trailed off, waiting for him to fill in the blank. He waited, and when she didn't continue, he realized what she wanted. He gave her that. "I told her if you wanted to leave I wouldn't stop you." He paused. "I meant that."

"I know you did. But after she left, you needed…reassurance."

He sighed heavily. He didn't remember that. He remembered looking for her through an encroaching darkness, a darkness that had finally enveloped him entirely, but he didn't remember anything he said, beyond making sure she was ok and telling her to help Logan. "What _kind_ of reassurance?" he asked tentatively.

"Look at me." He continued staring at the floor. "Bobby, please…"

Finally he did as she asked and looked at her. She moved closer. "You avoided the answer to her question."

"Which one?"

"Do you think I love you?"

"It doesn't matter, Eames."

That was what he'd told Nicole, but she wasn't going to let him get away with it. "It matters to me, Bobby. It really does. She almost killed you, but harming me would have caused you more pain? How much do you think it hurt me, watching you collapse after she stabbed you?" She tried to keep the tears from her eyes, but she couldn't. "I…tried to stop the bleeding. But every time you moved, I could feel your blood spilling over my hands. Do you have any idea…" She couldn't continue, and it was her turn to look away.

He had no idea, and he could only imagine how that must have been for her. He wanted to hold her, to chase those memories from her mind, but he held back, for the moment. He reached out and, placing his hand under her chin, he turned her face toward him. "What kind of reassurance was I looking for?"

"What do you think?" He wasn't making this easy for her; she wasn't going to make it easy for him, either.

He let his hand fall away and he just looked at her. He hadn't asked for this; it wasn't something he wanted to talk about in the first place. He forced himself off the couch and carried his plate into the kitchen. She watched him, annoyed that he wouldn't talk to her. She was also annoyed, very annoyed, that he wouldn't let her help him more. He wasn't used to being the one being taken care of, and he wouldn't let her step into that caretaker role. She got up and followed him into the kitchen. He was leaning on his arms, head bent, at the sink. "Bobby?"

He just shook his head and motioned for her to leave him alone. So she stood there, watching him with a worried frown. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed and he stepped away from the sink. He caught her worried look, and his own face creased into a frown. "Don't look at me like that," he said softly. He walked past her and lifted his coat from the coat rack. "I'll be back."

"Bobby…"

He looked at her. "It's ok, Eames. I just need some air. I'll be back."

Of all the ways she had imagined this conversation going, this had not been one of her scenarios. Leave it to him to find the one she had not anticipated. She wasn't sure if she should follow him or just let him be. She had not finished talking to him, and she didn't like his avoidance. She wasn't going to let him get away with it, and he knew that. So she sat down to wait for him, letting him have this time alone. He seemed to think he needed it, so she let him be…for now.


	19. Finishing Their Talk

Two hours later, he came back into the apartment. She looked up at him from the couch. "Feel better?" she asked.

He nodded, hanging his coat up. Then he looked at her. He'd been thinking and he was troubled. That was never good. He spoke tentatively. "I…I needed to know…how you feel, didn't I?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"And I…asked you…to _tell_ me?"

"Does that bother you?"

He nodded. "Y-yes, yes, it does."

"Why?"

He started pacing again. "I…I was out of line…to ask you that."

"No, you weren't. You needed reassurance. So did I."

"You?"

"I didn't know it, but I did. I didn't realize it, until you gave it to me. You always know what I need, and you never let me down."

He sat down beside her. Of course he tried to meet her needs. She had filled his biggest need; she stayed. It was the least he could do for her in return. But he had a nagging question hammering at the back of his mind. "What did I ask you?"

She looked at him. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, and she wasn't surprised. He wasn't drunk, but he was worried. "You just needed to know that I care, and that I'm not going to leave you. And I'm not." Then she repeated what she'd told him in the dim light of the condemned motel. "I do love you, Bobby, and that's not going to change. Nicole is not inside my head. She doesn't know me. But you do, and you should know better than to trust a word she says."

"That's what I told you, to reassure you, isn't it…? That I love you."

"Yes."

He looked at his hands. "It's true. That's why…why I damn near lost my…mind when you went missing, and I found out she was…b-behind it."

"I didn't do much better, you know. I know you, and I knew exactly what you were going to do when you found out, and that's exactly what you did."

He reached toward her, gently brushing her hair back from her face. "I…I can't imagine how you felt…after she stabbed me. It's not…something I ever dwell on…being in that situation. I…I am so sorry you had to…had to face that."

She placed her hand over his. "So am I." She hesitated, then she said, "Logan told me you didn't care about what happened to you."

"I told him if it came down to a choice between you or me to protect you."

"And you can watch out for yourself, right?"

He half-grinned, unconsciously placing a hand over his injury. "Right," he said quietly, leaning closer and softly kissing her.

She slid her arms around him and melted into his embrace. Then she pulled back and rested her forehead against his. "I'll make a deal with you. I'll let you continue to watch out for me, if you'll let me watch out for you."

"Do I have a choice?"

"No."

"Then I guess I have to agree, don't I?"

"Yes."

He brushed his lips over hers. "Ok," he murmured, sliding a hand behind her head. "I agree." The conversation was over.


	20. More Targets

Goren snored softly on the couch as Eames came out of the bedroom early the next morning. She watched him sleep for a few minutes before she went into the kitchen to start the coffee. She heard his phone ring and she came back into the living room as he answered it. "Goren," he said groggily.

"Aw, did I wake you, Bobby?"

He sat up, stifling a groan as the sudden movement flared the pain below his ribs. Eames saw his reaction and felt her heart start to pound. He motioned for her to come closer, to listen in on the call. She sat beside him and rested her head against his, listening. "Are you there, Bobby?"

"I'm here."

"Did you think I'd died in the ocean?"

"No. We wouldn't be that lucky."

"Now that wasn't very nice."

"I'm through with nice. You _stabbed_ me, Nicole."

"Yes. And I saw that you survived. How did that happen?"

"I got lucky."

"Really? Just how did you get lucky? That should have been a lethal wound."

He looked at Eames before he answered, "She didn't leave, and she's…not going to."

He could hear the wicked smile in her voice. "You did surprise me, Bobby, bringing that other detective with you. What ever possessed you…?"

"He insisted."

"You've made another friend. How nice for you. I'll have to remember that. Say hello to your partner for me. I hope she…enjoyed my 'hospitality.' Good-bye, Bobby…for now."

The line went dead. He snapped the phone closed and dropped it on the coffee table. "Well, now we know."

"I'll be sure to let Logan know she wasn't shark bait."

"I'm going in with you."

"Bobby…"

He met her eyes. "Until we get you moved into a new apartment, I don't want you going anywhere alone."

"Bobby…"

"I mean it."

She thought about it for a minute. "All right. But I don't want you being alone either." He studied her and she leaned closer. "Remember, you agreed."

"I knew that was going to come back to haunt me. I just didn't think it would be so soon." She smiled, but he could tell she was worried. "I let my guard down once. I won't make that mistake twice."

"I know that. Bobby, I became a target because I'm close to you. Is Logan going to be a target, too, now?"

Goren nodded. "Probably."

"We'd better get into the squad and let him know."

He nodded. As she got up to head toward the bedroom to get ready, he slipped his hand into hers. "I…I am sorry. I would have preferred being her only target."

"I know you would have. But why not spread the wealth? Maybe we'll get her next time."

"I…hate that there has to _be_ a next time."

"So do I." She laid a hand on his scruffy cheek. "We'll just have to be ready, never let her catch us off guard again."

She headed down the hall. He sat on the couch, his head in his hands. Like a demon cat with nine times nine lives, Nicole Wallace was out there, and he dreaded their next encounter, because she had more blood on her hands now…his blood. And he knew there was nothing she wouldn't do to exact more revenge on him…on his partner…and now on Logan, who was the sole reason he and Eames were not dead, and by extension, his partner. Damn…

_Fin_.


End file.
